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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460735">show me the pictures that hang in your house</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfire/pseuds/strawberryfire'>strawberryfire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead Poets Society (1989)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friends to Lovers, Help, M/M, Modern Era, Slow Burn, bc y'know it's set in the 50s and that's gross, gotta tone down the homophobia, i still don't know what to tag this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:47:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfire/pseuds/strawberryfire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it would be easy, if chris hadn't waltzed into knox's life like she was an angel straight from the heavens. it would be easy if charlie didn't fall for pretty boys so quickly, and if the pictures that hung up on the walls of knox's house weren't so perfect.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>show me the pictures that hang in your house</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>whoops reupload bc i messed up so many things and also bc i'm the biggest indecisive bitch on the earth but yeahhhhh this Will be like two chapters :)</p><p>here's my socials if ya want to bully me about updating n shit<br/>twitter: ILLICTAFFA1RS<br/>tumblr: strwbrryfire</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“although i may not be yours, i can never be another's.” mary shelley, from a letter to percy bysshe shelley (1814)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking someone's heart without realizing it was a simpler task than he thought. The bleeding is obvious to everyone but the one who’s holding that heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie knows who has it, but could never muster up the courage to ask for it back. Maybe he doesn't want to, he thinks that's what it boils down to. It hurts, because when he loves, it's like adrenaline. And he realizes that's why his heart beats out of his chest whenever Knox is around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie was never one for poetry. He didn't loathe it; he thought it was too sappy. Just wasn't his speed. But Knox was the sun and Charlie did whatever he could to make sure his orbit stayed steady around him. Knox insists that Charlie reads something, to pick a book out and read it. If he didn't like it, he'd never have to read poetry ever again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure sounded dramatic on Charlie’s end. Nonetheless, he agreed. He decides on a Friday evening to ask Todd and Neil for suggestions, since they're the ones that are the actual good and coherent poets in the group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knock knock, loverboys!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears a reluctant sigh, “Come in, loser.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The autumn breeze from the slightly open window hits Charlie’s face as he walks in, the smell of Neil’s favorite candle burning too, as always. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil’s oh so friendly face was smiling at him from the radiator, “What's up?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever Neil talked, especially in their early years at Welton, Charlie would get butterflies. He was wonderstruck in all honesty, yet he still pushed it down until the feeling went away completely. Pacing around and thinking until it ached was always Charlie’s solution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Knox is making me read a poetry book. If I don't like it, I don't have to read it again. Ever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Todd lifts his head up from his homework, “You really hate reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie shrugs, leaning up against the wall and crossing his arms, “Nah. Just like getting a rouse outta him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil laughs and shakes his head, then nods over to his desk, “That one right there. Just finished it, it's pretty damn good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's got a black and white cover, with a simple title. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crush. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“…Alright. Looks short so that's always a plus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Neil pauses for a moment like he's going to say something but isn't sure if he should, “…Yeah. It's good, I think you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie raises an eyebrow, taking the book, “Thanks. I’ll tell ya how I like it before I tell Knox, I don't want him to think too much of himself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil laughs, “Sounds like a plan, Nuwanda.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie flashes that big grin of his, and hurries off to his favorite spot underneath a tree that was screaming autumn. It was chilly, the wind turning his nose slightly red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The very first line of that damned book—it hit him like the fast pitch that broke his nose when he was nine. He was so taken aback, in fact, that he set the book down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dealing with emotions at a young age by pushing them away then getting older and realizing they never went away, it should be simple survival. Crawling a way out of the woods, coming out wiser with a heart of steel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox was supposed to be, and maybe he still was, the clearing in between the towering trees . The sun coming up over the horizon, warm with its brightness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Charlie got out, he left those woods years ago. Or maybe he didn't. It was sure becoming apparent that the answer was the latter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, he couldn't put the book down. He read it until dinner, until he heard news that he knew would come eventually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where's Knox?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeks rolls his eyes, “God, you should be glad you weren't here for his whole spiel. He’s taking Chris on a date to some stupid movie drive in to see When Harry Met Sally. That's not even a good movie!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You wanted happiness, I can't blame you for that,…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie blinks, then nods, “Yeah, I bet he sounded like a real sap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about it,” Todd laughs, but Neil knows. He can tell that this hurts in a way it shouldn't.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Evenings without Knox became common. He was with the girl next door, the girl who was sent from the heavens, the girl who was everything Charlie wasn’t, during every single moment of his free time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the next morning at breakfast, all Knox would ever talk about was her pretty blonde hair, her sparkling oceanic eyes, the beauty inside and out of her that Charlie could never amount to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It got to the point where Charlie would zone out in a desperate attempt to not hear Knox’s voice, which broke his heart all the same. Because what he talked about, what made him laugh and smile—it wasn't Charlie anymore. It was the pretty girl next door, the perfect one who hadn’t a clue as to how lucky she was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This was something he feared would happen years ago, and he knew this day would come at some point whether he liked it or not. Knox was a hopeless romantic, sadly also just as hopelessly oblivious. He listened to Sufjan Stevens and loved Moonlight but not in the way Charlie did. Knox viewed Charlie as a best friend, someone he trusted. Not necessarily the bare minimum, which is what Charlie always went after anyways, but in some cases it simply wasn't enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It would never be enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, Nuwanda, I think there's something that’s buggin’ you real bad.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a perfect day in October, picturesque even. Cold and windy, but not too much. It’s a day to sit outside with apple cider and not worry about anything, which is what Charlie </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be doing. Problem is that Meeks and Neil were practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>interrogating</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the millionth time, Neil, I am perfectly fine. Peachy. Grand. Splendid. What more do you want from me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeks rolls his eyes, typing away on his laptop, “You’ve been listening to Lorde too much. That never means anything good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie shakes his head, but he thinks they know. They only want to hear him say it, to confirm their suspicions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil sighs, “There's no use in pushing whatever's wrong down. It’ll only get worse. And if I’m right, whatever you're ignoring is only gonna fester more. It won't </span>
  <em>
    <span>magically</span>
  </em>
  <span> become any easier to deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> know…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right about what? Can you read my mind or somethin’?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know. Because I went through it, too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The birds are singing and Charlie’s still jealous of those things, even more so. All they do is sing and fly. How beautiful of a life would that be? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charlie, I'm being serious.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reluctantly looks up at Neil, trying his best to keep up this clueless act, “About what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to admit anything, either it's embarrassment or he's in denial. He isn't sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh c'mon, dude. You seriously think you're gonna spend a majority of your academic years at an all boys school in the middle of nowhere and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>come out a little bit gay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie just laughs, “That's not what I have a problem with and neither do you. No one in our friend group has a problem with that, besides maybe Cameron.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeks scoffs a little, “Yeah, well, it's high time we kick him out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a few more moments of silence as the sun begins to slowly tuck itself away behind the trees. Charlie’s mind goes back to that book, the book that's right there in his bag. He thinks about burning it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil breaks the quiet, hellbent on getting an answer out of Charlie, “It's a hell of an ache, isn't it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it's the weather or Knox’s instagram post with his arms around that pretty girl or it's the apple cider that's not hot anymore, but he caves in and he thinks his heart’s going first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil smiles a little, feeling accomplished, “What are you going to do about it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>he gonna do about it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to do something about it eventually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's something else that Charlie is supposed to say, but can't for the life of him remember what it is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's a plate of apple snickerdoodle cookies on the table in the study room, the way that Knox smells like cinnamon and how Charlie’s never seen him smiling so big. It's the fact that this is a rare evening with Knox, who</span>
  <em>
    <span> can't stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> smiling, who is here for once and his presence is enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It isn't always about me, he keeps saying, though he's talking about the only heart he knows—</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they all go off to bed, Charlie stops in the doorway of Todd and Neil’s room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have an answer for you, Neil.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises an eyebrow, standing in front of him and his presence is enough, “And what would that be?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie chews on the inside of his cheek. He can feel his face heating up and all he can think about is a line from that book, “He doesn't love me in a way I understand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil thinks for a moment, then slowly nods, “You're both stuck on a ferris wheel, Charlie. What you gotta figure out is if you want to get off the ride, or find a way to sit next to him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
  <em>
    <span>with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it's all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, he thinks about Neil’s analogy and how silly it sounded—nonetheless it was something to ponder on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks almost on the verge of too much—about how Knox doesn't lie and takes too long to respond to texts, that he likes flowers better when they're dying. He likes strawberries with sugar, even though he knows it's bad for him. Charlie would know that, of course, but Chris never could. She wouldn’t understand the little things, like why Knox has a scar on his leg from when he fell from a ladder decorating his Christmas tree at age eight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie always feels like he knew Knox then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, Chris, she was swell, but she wasn't worth the drive. Sure, Charlie didn't have much experience with girls or how different she may act around Knox. Still, she just didn't seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>all that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was becoming tiring, that's for certain. Neil told him to wait it out, that this wouldn't last. Chris was popular and she'd find another muse then Knox would be heartbroken—but Charlie, he gets carsick. He can't stay in the backseat for too long and by this point, the rolled down window wasn’t helping much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Knox seemed too tired to rant about whatever he had done with Chris the evening before. Of course, there were the sex jokes coming from Meeks, but Knox </span>
  <em>
    <span>swears </span>
  </em>
  <span>he just was up all night doing homework. Charlie knows he's not lying, but he doesn't mention it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox huffs as he picks at his eggs, “My mom is making me lead Sunday school now, it's so stupid. I have to wear khakis that are too tight and stupid Sperry loafers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He still has that gravely morning voice; Charlie never wants him to stop talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeks gasps dramatically, “Don't diss Sperry’s, dude! Those are mad comfy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox shakes his head, then turns his attention to Charlie, “How was your night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a simple question. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be, if these weren't the first words Knox had spoken to Charlie in almost weeks. Maybe he was still being dramatic. He’s convinced now Knox doesn’t know how much this hurts Charlie—he's having a heart attack, choking on his words, the symptoms are getting worse; but he’ll still say he's fine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…it was fine. Watched a movie, played that video game Cameron mentioned last week. ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox has his eyes steady on the boy across from him, “Oo, fun. Cam been leaving you be for the most part?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie feels like he’s being suffocated. It's never been this </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> to talk to Knox—he's nauseous, borderline </span>
  <em>
    <span>dizzy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His heart feels like it's about to crawl out of his throat or Knox is gonna rip it out. He wants to spit up blood only to prove it hurts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess. I normally don't sit in my room anymore, I’ll go to the study if he’s really pissing me off. Which is most of the time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox smiles and Charlie feels like he's rotting, “That’s good, annoying I bet, but good. What movie did you watch?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie was most definitely having a panic attack. He knew Todd had them frequently and that one time he described them—it was exactly this. He feels like a dead body in the back of Knox’s car, or an open wound, and Knox is holding the knife.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hell House. It's one of those found-footage horror movies, it was pretty good.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's praying to whatever's up there in the sky that his voice isn't shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox laughs a little, “The fact that you can even watch horror movies is crazy to me. You’ll have to show me a good one sometime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure…sure. Anytime.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The morning goes by like sap dripping down a tree. He feels exhausted, weak—like he just got beat up. Nonetheless, he tries to stop the blushing and goes about his day the best he can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they get into Keating’s class, Todd and Charlie are the first ones there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey…you okay, Nuwanda?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Todd’s voice was always so nice, so comforting. He made every room feel like a warm hearth during Christmas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what makes you think otherwise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, what you had this morning… was a panic attack. And I can tell it's made you feel real shitty…even now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie sighs, looking down at his desk, “No, no, I just had too much coffee…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That's a lie and we both know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Knox walks in with Meeks, laughing about something or other. Charlie’s heart falls to his feet and he feels out of breath all over again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep yourself steady, try your best to. Don't let it control you. I know that's rich coming from me, still…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The panic isn't what’s controlling me,” Charlie’s voice is down to a barely audible whisper, “It's him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Todd gives him a sympathetic smile, “I know. So either let him… or don't.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now what Charlie doesn't know, is Knox is having a crisis. One that resulted in an argument between him and Chris the night previous. One that's tearing his heart in two different directions. He tried to talk to Neil about it, but Knox being who he was, he couldn't find the words to say. Knox didn't choose to depend on Charlie, that was all out of their hands. He wants Charlie to be able to give what Knox needs, he wants to feel comfortable diving into the deep end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sadly, neither of them were very good swimmers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or good dancers, for that matter. And it's unbeknownst to them that they’ll be dancing around in circles in the candlelight until that light burns out and the floor caves in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Keating talks about how dreaming is free but it's still a shot into the dark and how reality will break a heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox doesn’t pay attention an ounce, his mind racing so fast he can’t even keep up with his own thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Chris thought that he talked about Charlie too much. That he didn’t pay enough attention to her when in reality that’s all Knox did. Every moment of free time he had, it was devoted to her. He tried to explain that he and Charlie had been friends almost all their lives, and she was jealous over nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not jealous, Knox. Just annoyed. Like, I appreciate all you do for me, but half the time you’re just talking about stories and shit you’ve done with Charlie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how to respond, since this contradicted her saying he was too much at the beginning of their relationship, so he asked her, “Am I too much or not enough for you, Chris?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was enough to set her off on a tirade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bell rings and Knox darts out of the room before Charlie can even ask what today’s lecture was about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Charlie sighs and starts packing up his stuff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s his issue?” Cameron asks, borderline scoffing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeks crosses his arms, trying to not sound too annoyed, “What’s it to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Chris was being bitchy or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie takes another deep breath, trying to not lose his shit. This was a common occurance whenever Cameron opened his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pitts just stares, “Since when do you care about their relationship so much?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil chimes in before Cam can answer, “Just leave Knox alone, okay? He’s probably stressed like the rest of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still think he’s too good for her. It’s like waiting by for something to explode, this isn’t gonna end well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie rolls his eyes, making his way out the door, “Stick it up yours, Cam, and mind your own damn business. And if he needs our help, he certainly wouldn’t come to someone like you for advice. For anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walks away too fast to listen to whatever bullshit Cameron responded with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie goes to Knox’s room, giving a gentle knock on the door, “Nuwanda here, open up, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you just call me kiddo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe I did. Don’t question it, just let me in.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox laughs and it makes Charlie’s face heat up, “Come on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He steps inside, shutting the door behind him, “Chris been giving you trouble or something? You seemed a bit off today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox sits at his desk, tapping his pencil, “Who even knows...girls are weird. First she tells me I’m too much, now she's saying I’m not enough. I can’t win.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie frowns as he sits on Knox's bed, pushing away the idea of them being closer than this, “What does she mean by not enough, though? I mean, you can't be with her 24/7…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though it sure seems like it, Charlie thinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox shrugs, trying his best to ignore how unsteady his breathing was and that he couldn't look at Charlie without getting butterflies, “I haven't a clue. But I’m tired, and I miss you guys. It's not really worth the parties and subpar alcohol. Chris is great and all..I dunno.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You genuinely would give that up for us?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For you. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie blinks. For him? God, this must be what drowning feels like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yeah, I…see, that's her problem. She says I talk about you too much.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both seem to fall silent, processing what the other was saying. Charlie looks out the window, watching the maple leaves float down off the dead branches, wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t a coward. If when he loved someone it wasn’t something he shied away from. If it was easy to love a boy the way he loves the snow covered mountains in January. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something, Knox?” His voice is on the verge of too shaky, not steady enough to sound confident like in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pauses for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip, “Am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> too much for you? Or not enough…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox doesn't even miss a beat, he doesn't have to think about this, “You're just right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sunlight pouring in is golden like he is, but it's an intangible thing, slipping through your fingertips. Catching sunlight is impossible, still it's a lovely thing to try and do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie knows a lot of things. He’s a senior in high school who pays attention, but never to the real important things. He can solve fractions in his head, (Knox was always jealous of this), ride a bike with no hands and even speak some German. Knox knows lots of things too; yet he never seems to pay attention enough. Still! He can write with both hands, read Latin and fix a broken taillight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But neither of them know how to respond, how to fix this, how to write this down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie thinks about what to say and he's choking on air again—he guesses this is it, that all these years of a good education really would teach him nothing and fractions can’t save him here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't think she and I will end well,” is what Knox comes up with and Charlie’s never been more grateful to hear his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you gonna do about that? Snuff out the match before it burns the house down?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox laughs a little, “You sound more and more like Neil everyday…wait! Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>read a poetry book?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way his face lit up mid-sentence was enough to convince Charlie that he's caught sunlight, right here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, in fact I did. And I, as much as I hate to say it, thoroughly enjoyed it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox grins ear to ear, “I told you! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>gotta </span>
  </em>
  <span>read some Margaret Atwood next, okay? What was the one you read?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Crush. By Richard Siken,” he pauses before adding, “I think you should read it, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never heard of it, so sure, I’ll give it a shot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie pulls the book out from his pocket ( he still thinks about burning it ), “Here ya go. It’s Neil’s, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll probably finish it in one night, looks short,” Knox flips through the pages, then sets it down on his desk, “You got much homework to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably.…I don't care about it like I should, but y'know. Senior year. I stopped caring.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair...you can hang out here for a bit. If you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Charlie looks at him and he just wants to </span><em><span>say</span></em> <em><span>something</span></em><span>, to lift this weight off both of their chests, “Sure, didn’t Chris say we spend too much time together or something?”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox laughs, opening up his math textbook, “Yeah, yeah, well she’ll have to deal with it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them would give anything to have the balls to say something, especially when the moment was just right. Problem is, Knox wasn't any better at talking to boys than girls. It's equally as stressful and time consuming. Because when Knox confesses to someone that he likes them, he wants to do it right. Even with Charlie, who he only had to do the bare minimum for in order to get surface level attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It made Knox sad, in all honesty. Charlie wasn't a complete kiss ass; he clearly had a lot of love in his heart with nowhere to put it, no one to give it to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he sure was a pretty boy, with a pretty smile and eyes that looked like California. Charlie was, to Knox at least, more out of his league than Chris. He was the rebel, yet had decent grades and never seemed to get into too much trouble; despite everything. Knox used to think it was jealousy—he soon realized it was admiration. Infatuation, even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox was always an attentive person, especially when he came to conversation. He’d make an effort to look at whoever he was talking to in the eyes, make sure to listen to every detail. He loved listening to Charlie tell stories, especially when he'd get off track then apologize profusely only to forget what he was talking about in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was all the little things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh! I swear to Whitman, I’d commit a murder if it meant I never had to do calculus again,” Charlie huffs, leaning his head back against the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox was engrossed in the Siken book as he laughs, “No need for the dramatics, Charlie. There's photomath for a reason.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alas, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>not helping. What’s with Meeks being the only one who can do math?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He can do anything, he’s Meeks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie nods, “True, true.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thankfully finds the answers online, and the rest of the evening goes on in comfortable silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner comes and goes; it's comfortable, it's enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night was a Friday, meaning it's their weekly poets meeting, so Knox and Charlie were tasked with going to get snacks. The car ride is nice, they complain about the tests and the books that didn't make sense. Knox’s car runs smooth and his music taste is good. With the windows up, it smells like his bedroom at home. It’s that incense smell, but it's vaguely weed, and Charlie </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>badgers Knox about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn't wanna smoke with me, that's for sure.” Knox says as they're on the way back from the store, sipping on his Pepsi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why’s that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I say shit, y'know? Just really stupid shit, like Meeks when he got his wisdom teeth out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie laughs at the memory, “Trust me, dude. I won't care.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox looks at the clock on the car, then does that stupid smirk when he wants to do something dumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Overstreet, if we’re late, Neil will put us on a stake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh c’mon!” He </span>
  <em>
    <span>whines </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a toddler, pouting because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can do that to get Charlie to do anything, “We got, like, two hours. Plus, I wanna know what you're like high. I bet you’re a crier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pft, am not. I’ll probably just sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox narrows his eyes, “I feel like you’d say stupid stuff, too. But I know you'd cry, even if you say otherwise. I know you're emotional.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie looks over at him, unsure of how to really respond, that choking feeling coming back up his throat, “If you say so.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So is that a yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pouting won't go away, neither would those damn puppy eyes that could melt a honeycomb. He’s too cute, too sweet to say no to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Don’t talk about what I say or do, I won’t hold you responsible for what you say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox looks smug, all proud of himself, so he drives out to the park, “You don't have to do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cause. I say the stuff I'm too scared to say sober.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a moment and in that moment, Charlie wasn't thinking. This happened occasionally; he would say something without a second thought, before he could stop it from coming out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pft, you shouldn't have to get high to wanna kiss me, Knoxie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox kinda blinks, “The hell are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie thinks about flinging himself out of the moving car, “Uh. It…was just a joke dude c'mon now. Just jokin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knox doesn't respond, instead turns the car around and the silence is more suffocating than anything Charlie’s ever felt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neither of them go to the meeting that night. Knox sits in his bed, staring at the ceiling, and desperately trying to push out the idea of what </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>have happened. Or maybe the fact that, yeah. He did wanna kiss Charlie, and he wouldn't have to get high to do it either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie cried until his head hurt, or more so until Neil came barging in in the middle of the night, doing that angry whispering thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dalton! Where the hell were you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don't feel well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His voice was tired from the tears, and Neil immediately noticed. Since that's who he is. He sits beside Charlie in bed, that soft concerned look on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what's wrong?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie sits up, giving a weak smile as he rubs his eyes, “I goofed, Neil. Probably real bad…not to mention, I've come to a conclusion that you probably already know and I…don't know if I can handle it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil sighs then pulls Charlie into his arms, giving him a tight hug and Charlie feels like passing out for the fifth time only that day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It takes patience, Charlie…and self acceptance,” Neil’s looking into his eyes now, still all gentle and kind like he always was, “And it's not easy. But Knox isn't gonna let Chris go so quickly, even if he says otherwise, so use that time to love yourself before you love him. Got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie rubs his eyes, too tired to argue, “I got it. I’m just jealous of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pft, me? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cause. Todd and you are like…perfect. Soulmates even. I don't personally believe in that shit…if it's real, you guys are proof.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m lucky…but it's still hard...anyways, think about it, and get some sleep. I’ll tell Knox the same thing, if that makes you feel better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie flops back onto his bed with a huff, “No need to worry about us, even though I know you will anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I always worry, especially if my friends are sad. Don't want that do we?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie laughs, “Nope, not at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Neil leaves, Charlie thinks about asking him to stay, to have company. He was just thankful Cameron was with family that weekend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie eventually falls asleep, and tries to not think about the vines growing underneath him that keep on holding him down, that it's getting colder and his heart might start freezing over. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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